


A Warm Touch

by PlagueDoctor31



Category: Evil Dead - All Media Types, Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Panic Attacks, also dead things, just the one in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueDoctor31/pseuds/PlagueDoctor31
Summary: Herbert is not happy about his most recent failed experiment, so Ash steps in to help make him feel better.





	A Warm Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP I've had bouncing around in my drafts for a while, so have some good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort for your Ashbert needs!

Another failure… Herbert was unsure how much longer he could take of this. He watched as the revived corpse struggle against the reinforced cuffs Herbert had attached to the gurney. Dead eyes stared up at him ablaze with an artificial life, and it made his stomach churn. It wasn’t supposed to look like that, it was supposed to look more _real_. The whole performance of wailing and gnashing had a sort of uncanny valley that followed all his subjects. The movements of the body didn’t match the wounds that riddled the body, having been punctured by bullet hole only a week prior. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only opportunity that showed itself to Herbert.

Herbert frowned and turned away, trying to drown out the noise with his own thoughts. Oh how he hated how restricted he felt, knowing he had few other choices. He could’ve continued on like normal, picking through the pathology department like a vulture, stitching together bits and pieces to satisfy his boredom and curiosity, but it wouldn’t make true progress. On the other hand, Herbert could’ve just been patient, biding his time for a corpse in a better condition turn up, but that was out of the question. Who knows when that would happen? If he waited for every single mint-condition body to come his way, he would not have come as far as he had. Still, it frustrated Herbert to no end that those were his only two options.

He looked back at subjects past, on how far he came. There was the masterpiece he made with Dan back when they still lived together, and Lieutenant Chapman (as dimwitted as he was) was a surprisingly cognitive subject, along with that loathsome Dr. Hill, who Herbert can almost sometimes hear his screams from within the rubble that remained of the Averal’s crypt. He thought of that time in Miskatonic, how young he was, despite being less than five years ago. Things felt like a whirlwind with meeting Dan, moving in, reviving that cat _twice_ and bringing back a human not long after, Halsey’s death and rebirth, and the decapitation of Dr. Hill that was the first domino that gave way to the outright mess that was the Miskatonic Massacre.

“What’s even changed…?” Herbert let out an exhausted sigh, returning to the corpse’s side. The thrashing has lessened, and Herbert felt confident enough to gently reach out and touch the body’s hand.

Nothing. It felt cold to the touch. Unnaturally cold, sickeningly cold, _deathly_ cold. It should’ve have hurt Herbert’s heart as much as it should, but it did. He had only held a dead body like this once before, long ago. Why was he thinking about this? It only made his heart ache more.

He was naive back then, at least more naive when he was now, before the stench of death that followed him like a shadow. He recalled having fallen to the floor, holding the frail doctor in his arms as his eyes went wide with panic. He clutched to the doctor’s hands, fumbling for a pulse as he saw the light slowly fade from Doctor Gruber’s eyes.

_“Dr. Gruber please, no… Hans please, we have so much to accomplish! Don’t leave me!”_

_“Her…bert… I…”_

Herbert tore his hand away from the corpse, watching as the thrashing picked back up from agitation. It did nothing to quell the anger that burned in his heart. The corpse was nothing to him. It was a failure, a pile of dead tissue moving with no rhyme or reason. It lacked the purpose, the drive, the intent that Gruber had when they worked together. Gruber became that way too, when Herbert failed to save him.

Herbert had no motivation to stop himself as he grabbed the crowbar that leaned against the wall, lifted it over his head, and brought it down onto the corpse’s head. And again… and again.

 

It was a speck of red staining his vision that interrupted his assault on the body. He stopped mid-swing, slowly bringing it down as he kept his focus on it. He barely heard the sound of the crowbar clattering onto the ground from slipping out of his fingers over the pounding heart that dominated his senses. The iron scent of blood filled his nostrils, his hands trembled, and a tightness gripped his chest in a way that he only felt a handful of times in his life, times that he would prefer to forget.

Herbert turned to the closest worktable and practically collapsed against it, feeling his legs nearly give out as the tightness didn’t let up. The pounding got louder and louder as his breathing grew erratic. He opened his mouth, trying to stop it somehow, but no noise came out. His breathing grew faster and faster, hearing nothing but the pounding. His voice refused to be let out, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish gasping for air. He had to release. Somehow. Someway. Something needed to happen.

The smoothness of glass touched the tips of his fingers, and Herbert grasped onto the beaker that rested on the table. In a desperate act of lashing out at _something_ , Herbert launched the glassware across the room, only to watch it shatter on the wall next to Ash’s head.

“Well then,” Ash stared at the broken glass with wide eyes “Someone’s not happy to see me.”

Herbert felt his throat choke up as he stared at Ash, trying his utmost best to keep his face even as hot tears welled up and blur his vision. He watched Ash quickly cross the room to come to him. Knowing it was impossible to hide them now, he didn’t even bother to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He expected nothing, but instead felt Ash’s rough fingers brush against his face.

“Jesus, Herb,” Ash voiced his concern “I come down here, and you’re covered in blood and crying? What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” Herbert manage to force out. In his blurry vision, Ash shook his head.

“No it’s not, come on…”

Ash’s warm grasp held onto Herbert’s hand and gently led him out of the lab. Herbert shuffled behind him, frowning with humiliation. He never liked crying, _ever_. It was like he was leaving himself wide open in all the wrong ways. He did cry after Dr. Gruber died, but it was after the funeral and in the privacy of his bedroom. He had considered drinking that night, a thought that he regrets to this day despite never going through with it.

Before Herbert realized it, he found himself in the bedroom he and Ash shared, his vision double-blurred as his glasses were removed from his face to be cleaned. He was sat on the bed, feeling the wetness of his cheeks slowly dry and become replaced with a hollow feeling in heart, as if someone took a shovel and scooped something out, something Herbert had wanted to kept locked inside and never seen. He was only slightly aware of the other man moving about the room, pulling open drawers and pushing them shut. Herbert’s head hung low, preferring to stare at his hands and the sleeves of his immaculate white shirt, now stained crimson from his outburst.

Something was placed beside him, and Ash knelt in front of him. If he said something, Herbert wasn’t listening, instead he watched as his hands became enveloped in Ash’s. His right hand grasped to warmth, the steady pulse of life beating against his touch. His left, however, held to hard metal, fluid in motion, but no more an object than the bed he sat on. It was a “part” but by no means “living”. Herbert slipped his hand out of the prosthetic grasp and placed it on top of Ash’s left hand.

Ash leaned up, using his freed hand to pull Herbert into a gentle hug, “Hey there, Doc. It’s okay.”

Herbert grumbled in protest, causing Ash to pull away to look at him, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Herbert shot him the sourest look he could muster, “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“How about ‘Herbie’?” Ash fired back a little grin, which promptly faded as Herbert turned his head to look away “Yeah, didn’t think it would be that easy.”

Ash stood up, pulling his hand out from in between Herbert’s. Herbert unconsciously reached out, a noise bubbling up in his throat to protest the missing warmth from under his fingers. The other man had brought his hands up, going for Herbert’s tie.

“You’ve stopped crying, but there’s probably no chance that you’re willing to talk about it,” Ash reasoned as he undid the knot “So at least change out of what you’re wearing and put on something more comfortable.”

The smooth fabric of the tie was pulled out from under Herbert’s collar, no longer tied around him like the ever-present black noose of his wardrobe. Ash tossed it aside before walking away, do doubt to leave Herbert to his own privacy and devices. Herbert watched him go, seeing the blurry mass of his companion move out into the hallway, hearing the footsteps thud down the stairs back down to the first floor. Herbert let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and glared down at himself. How could he allow himself to get like this, after so long? Dan saw many shades of Herbert, but never saw him like _this_ , so open. So exposed. Why must the emotions swell now now that someone else is by his side? Perhaps… There was a difference between Daniel Cain and Ashley Williams.

Reaching over to grab what was placed next to him, a tired smile creeped up on his lips at the sight of the grey blob and the soft feeling of a sweatshirt. He lifted it closer, catching the scent of Ash’s natural musk wafting from the clothing. It seemed so inconsequential, but it gave Herbert comfort. It was a smell he grew used to as time moved onward with the two men working side by side. Yes… Comfort. It was something Herbert offered a handful of occasions to Dan. It was a balm, a means to an end in the grand scheme of his work. It was the coaxing finger to urge Dan to remain by his side. Yet, with Ash, Herbert did no such thing. No false platitudes, no mentions of the past, no false word of encouragements. Ash chose to remain with him, and it was something Herbert could never wrap his head around. It all lead up to now, with Herbert having laid himself emotionally bare in a potentially devastating way. One of these men perhaps would’ve turned away, after everything that Herbert’s done, while the other showed him kindness. Was this what it means to truly be cared for?

Herbert took a deep breath, letting that smell of comfort fill his lungs before letting go and undoing the buttons on his soiled dress shirt.

 

He looked absolutely ridiculous as he stood in front of the mirror. His dirtied clothes were now replaced by his usual cotton sleep-pants and the grey sweatshirt Ash had offered up. Herbert and him were not too dissimilar in shape, but Ash was still tall. The sweater hung off Herbert, giving him a less-defined shape that he was unused to. He adjusted the newly cleaned glasses on his face. He looked so collegiate, more collegiate than he ever was in his college years and he ever cared to be. He let out a huff and grabbed the edge to pull it back over his head. It was a foolish endeavor, and besides Herbert had other white shirts he could wear in its stead.

He was interrupted by a low whistle, “Look at the back muscles on that one.”

Herbert’s cheeks became alight with heat, and he shoved the fabric back down over his torso and turned to glare at the approaching Ash. A warm smile was spread over Ash’s lips as he stepped in with a mug in hand.

Herbert frowned at the sight of the mug, which made Ash let out a chuckle, “It’s not what you think. I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t drink coffee after noon anyway. It’s hot chocolate.”

Herbert let out a hum of surprise, furrowing his brow and peering into the cup. Sure enough, the sweet scent of chocolate filled his lungs as his glasses clouded up from the steam rising from the brown liquid. The latter made Herbert’s frown deepen as he pulled away.

“I never expected you to be so…” Herbert turned away as he searched for the right word without sounding too insensitive “considerate.”

“Hey, I went to college,” Ash answered from behind, followed by the soft thunk of the mug being set down “Let’s just say it’s not my first rodeo dealing with stressed out partners.”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Herbert’s middle, causing him to gasp and tense in in preparation for trying to wrench himself free. Only one other thing held him like that in the past, and Herbert almost died when that happened. There was no deathly tightening squeeze, however, and it was the only stopping him from accidentally elbowing Ash’s face in retaliation. The hold felt so warm, like a living heated blanket. Herbert felt himself relax into the warmth as he felt Ash’s chin rest itself on his shoulder.

“Well don’t you look adorable,” Ash grinned at Herbert’s reflection in the mirror. Herbert felt his cheeks heat up again, and he narrowed his eyes.

“No I do not.”

“Yes you do,” Ash smiled contently, holding Herbert flush against his body “How’re you feeling? Any better? Still upset.”

Herbert let out a heavy sigh, dropping his gaze to the floor, “Not upset. Just… Hollow.”

“Haven’t had a good cry in a while, huh?”

Herbert didn’t want to verbally admit it, instead smoothing his hand over Ash’s, finding relief in the warm skin and the veins that steadily pulsed underneath. He wrapped his fingers around it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You know what it’s like to fail,” Herbert observed, his voice growing soft but not by choice “To lose it all.”

Ash seemed to know what he meant as he nodded with a serious expression, “Yeah, but… It gets better. Sure, I get nightmares. Sure, I have bad days. But I’m getting better, getting back on track with life.”

Herbert furrowed his brow, “How do you know that?”

“Well,” the smile returned on Ash’s face “I’m here with you.”

That only further confused him, “Why are you here? You don’t have much passion and interest in my work, and yet you stay. You help me.”

That gave Ash pause, and for a moment Herbert assumed that he had finally overstepped his bounds, but instead Ash moved his hand to intertwine his fingers with Herbert’s.

“Because… I think you’re lonely. I know you don’t act like it, but you prefer to have someone stand with you. How do I know? Well, I’m lonely too. We both need people, and I guess Lady Luck is on our side, because I think we work pretty well together… Don’t you agree?”

Herbert hummed in thought. Would he call it Luck? If he wasn’t assigned to take care of Ash in the hospital, if Herbert hadn’t chose to go into the morgue that night and discovered his patient skulking about, if he hadn’t let Ash follow him home… The two of them wouldn’t be here now after all this time. There was something about it all that clicked into place, like a puzzle piece finding its match. Herbert allowed himself to smile and nod in agreement.

“I suppose you have a point,” Herbert agreed, making Ash smile even wider. He responded with planting a soft kiss against Herbert’s throat, eliciting a small gasp from him.

“Mm-hm,” Ash grinned, letting go of Herbert’s hand to fiddle with the hem of the sweater “Of course I do.”

The heat in Herbert’s face increased as more kisses were planted along the sensitive skin of his neck, but it didn’t stop him from feeling Ash’s fingers start to slip under the waistband of his pants. He hissed, and grabbed Ash’s wrist tightly, causing the other man to let out a gasp of pain.

“If that hand goes any further, I will not hesitate to cut it off myself,” Herbert growled. Ash, to his surprise, laughed as he retracted his hand and nuzzled into the crook of Herbert’s neck, causing him to tense up again.

“There’s the Herbie I know and love,” Ash remarked happily. Herbert couldn’t help it but smile as well. He found it increasingly hard to stay mad at Ash for long recently, not that he minded much.

“You _are_ an oaf,” Herbert finally detached himself from Ash’s hold, going over to pick up the ignored mug.

“Mark my words: One of these nights I’ll get you in bed and show you the magic of my boom-stick,” Ash grinned and shot a wink at Herbert, who rolled his eyes in response.

“Innuendoes aside,” Herbert took a sip of the cooling hot chocolate, letting the smooth liquid run down his throat and settle as a warm pool in his stomach “Tonight is certainly not one of those nights.”

“Hey. Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“I suppose not…” he drummed his fingers against his mug. It’s funny, the hollow feeling in his chest didn’t seem to have much of a presence as he spoke to Ash. Being held by him, being given a piece of his clothing in a gesture of affection, it was so horribly cliche that Herbert could gag at the very thought, and yet… it was working. Was this what kept Dan clinging to Herbert as long as he could, this sense of fulfillment and completion that was offered by the other. With someone next to him, failure never seemed as imminent, but Ash seemed to offer something more. Something Herbert couldn’t quite place.

“How about this?” Ash interrupted his thoughts, walking over to the dresser drawers to get changed himself “We go downstairs, I’ll put a movie on, and then we fall asleep in each other’s arms for the night. Sound like a plan?”

Herbert liked the sound of that, and it shocked him that he agreed to that so quickly, but right now, what he wouldn’t give to feel the living warmth wrapped around him again, providing him security and comfort. He and his uncanny ability to die was a blessing in disguise for Herbert, an anchor to remind him that not everyone will leave, either willfully or by the cold hand of Death. He liked that feeling, so by extension, Herbert came to realize that he liked Ash.

Ash approached him once he changed into his own sleepwear and reached out to Herbert, “C’mon, let’s do this.”

Herbert’s mouth quirked up in a smile to match Ash’s own, and he grasped the warm hand in front of him. He regarded it briefly, recalling the cold hand he held in the basement, this one its opposite looking flushed with life. Content with it, Herbert lifted it up and planted a soft tender kiss on the back of it. He tried not to laugh as he looked up at Ash’s surprised expression.

“Let’s,” Herbert smiled and led Ash out of the room. He could practically hear the fluster in Ash’s voice as he tried to think of something witty in response. Herbert didn’t bother letting him.

“Oh, and Ash?”

“Yeah…?”

“I suppose you don’t mind cleaning up the mess in the lab tomorrow morning. I would be ever so thankful.”

Ash groaned at the idea, and this time Herbert did laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? ^_^ I'm really happy with how this piece turned out and I hope you all liked it too! Thank you so much for reading!!!


End file.
